Sonnets
by 13 o'clock Erik
Summary: Nigel's wankered at a bar and Jordan has to come pick up the pieces.
1. Chapter 1

Sonnets

DGDB

Pg-13

Summary: Nigel's knackered out of his mind. The sonnet's come in later. Just read it.

A/N: The CJ finale was a bit disappointing. Too much angsty angst with Woodles and not enough N/J action. All in favor of castrating Woody and then sending him to Peru say 'I'!

Timeline: After the season finale.

&&

_Like as a huntsman after weary chase,_

_Seeing the game from him escaped away,_

_Sits down to rest in some shady place,_

_With panting hounds, beguiled of their prey:_

_So, after long pursuit and vain assay,_

_When I all weary had the chase forsook,_

_The gentle deer returned the selfsame way,_

_Thinking herself to quench her thirst at the next brook._

_There she, beholding me with milder look,_

_Sought not to fly, but fearless still did bide,_

_Till I in hand her yet half trembling took,_

_And with her own good will her firmly tied._

_Strange thing, me seemed, to get a beast so wild_

_So goodly won, with her own will beguilded._

_Edmund Spenser_

_Sonnet 67_

Nigel staggered into the Pogue at eleven that evening. It was quite clear that he'd a made a few stops on the way there. Max Cavanaugh glanced up as his daughter's coworker sat down at the bar and ordered a shot-glass and a bottle of whatever could knock him out the fastest. Max caught the bartender's glance and motioned for him to let the boss handle Nigel. He sidled up to the bar and poured Nigel a glass of whiskey. Nigel held it up and nodded at Max.

"Cheers mate." then he downed the glass in one swallow. That is, of course, the reason behind shot-glasses.

Nigel poured himself another and concentrated on getting completely knackered.

"Somethin' bothering you Nigel?" Max asked nonchalantly.

"No… Yes… Maybe… I don't know!" the tall Brit replied hysterically. "Bugger!"

Max raised an eyebrow and pulled up one of the tall stools that sat behind the bar for the bartender during breaks.

"Come on Nigel, I know you like to get drunk, but there's always been a reason behind it." Max prodded.

Nigel shook his head furiously, then immediately regretted it. His head spun badly and he put his forehead down on the cool marble of the bar.

"Argh…" was the only thing he said.

Max reached for the bottle of whiskey to take it away. Nigel's hand snapped out and grabbed it before Max could get it away.

"Not done. Need to forget…" Nigel grunted.

The Irishman sighed in defeat and watched Nigel pour himself glass after glass until the bottle was empty.

"Have you forgotten yet, Nigel?"

"Nope. Give us another bottle will ya?"

"Nope. I think you've had enough." Max said, frowning. Nigel was in real danger of alcohol poisoning and Max didn't want that happening. Jordan had a soft spot for the gangly Brit and she would kill him if anything happened to Nigel. "I'm going to call Jordan. Someone needs to take you home and I've got to run the bar."

"S'fine. S'fine. I can get home on my own." Nigel slurred, trying to stand up. He swayed perilously and grabbed the side of the bar for support. "Bugger all." he swore angrily.

"Sit down. I'm calling Jordan to come get you." Max said firmly picking up the phone.

Without any warning whatsoever, Nigel burst into tears. Max's head jerked up in surprise.

"Nigel?" he asked, concerned.

Nigel waved him away and put his head in his hands. Still looking at Nigel, Max heard Jordan's voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" she asked distractedly.

"Jordan. Hey it's dad." he said, fully aware of how obvious that was.

"Oh hey. What's up?"

"Listen, I'm here at the Pogue. I've got Nigel here with me, I think you should come pick him up."

"Nigel? What's he doing there? He's supposed to be home relaxing."

"Oh he's relaxed alright. He's had a bottle of Jack and god knows how much else on the side. Listen, are you going to come get him or do I need to get him a cab?" Max asked.

"No, no. I'll be right there."

"Good. I think he's about to pass out. Shit, there he goes! Nigel! Wake up!" Max swore, grabbing Nigel's collar from across the bar. "Honey, I got to go."

"Yeah. I'll be right there."

Max tossed the phone on the general area of the receiver and hurried around the bar to grab Nigel before he fell off the barstool.

"This won't do. Let's get you into a booth, Nigel."

"Huh? Yeah whotever. S'alright. Everything's ok… Shiiiit…" his stomach lurched and he tried to stay upright long enough for Max to navigate him into a booth.

About five minutes later, Jordan walked through the doorway. She had on a distractingly tight pair of jeans and Nigel thought it very odd indeed that she would be walking on the ceiling, then realized he had passed out and was hanging off the booth seat.

"'Allo Jordan!" he exclaimed, wincing at the noise.

"Nigel? What're you doing here? You said you were going home."

"I lied. After Garret left, Buggles and me went out for a nip of the ol' hair o' the dog and we got a bit carried away." Nigel said bitterly.

Max came out from behind the bar, drying a glass with a towel.

"Hi sweetie. You walk here or did you drive?"

"Walked."

"Alright, I'll call a cab for you." Max said, he looked over at Nigel, who had passed out again. "You going to be alright?"

"Yeah. We'll be ok. Did he say what was wrong?"

"No. You know Nigel. Never face a problem when you can either joke about it or get hammered. But judging by the time's he's been in here before, this is something big."

Jordan nodded and Max went to call a cab. Minutes later, he was helping her get Nigel outside and into a cab. Jordan kissed her father on the cheek and said goodbye.

"If you need anything, just call." Max said seriously.

"I will. I'm taking him back to my apartment. That way I can make sure he doesn't start drinking again."

"Alright. Be careful."

Jordan smiled and climbed into the cab and gave directions to the driver. She closed the grate between the front at back seat and turned back to Nigel, who was fast asleep in a very uncomfortable looking position.

"Nigel. Wake up buddy. Nigel?" she shook him gently.

Nigel jumped and looked around, wide eyed; then his eyelids drooped to half-mast again.

"What's wrong?" Jordan asked.

"Nothings'matter. 'Mfine…"

"Nige, I haven't seen you this drunk since Manchester lost to Chelsea. Spill."

"Nope. Lemme sleep."

Jordan twined an arm around her co-worker and helped him sit upright. Nigel's head fell onto her shoulder and Jordan couldn't help but feel her heart jump in her chest.

"Nigel?"

"Mmm?"

"Tell me what's wrong?"

"Mmm…."

He had already fallen asleep on her, his hot, whiskey breath on her throat. Jordan rubbed his back soothingly, unnerved by this sudden change of events. The cab slowed and Jordan reluctantly woke Nigel.

"Nige. Come on. We're here." she said, nudging him.

"Uhm?" he asked. "Five more minutes mom…"

"Nigel. Come on you limey git." she growled, trying to hoist him out of the cab.

"Awright awright. I'm up." he mumbled, his head clearing for a moment.

Jordan pulled one of his arms around her shoulders and slid her own arm around his waist as they teetered precariously into her apartment building.

"Jordan?" he said suddenly in a confused voice.

"Yes?"

"This isn't my building."

"No. It's mine. I'm taking you to my place. Is that ok?"

"Yeah."

Somehow they made their way into an elevator, Jordan leaned Nigel against the wall while she pressed the button. The short ride was silent; the only sound was Nigel; occasionally hiccupping and quietly singing a song about a fisherman.

"There was an old fisherman, set sail from…. Bugger…" Nigel cursed at the realization that he had forgotten the words. "Bloody African Queen!"

Jordan looked at Nigel sideways.

"Bedtime for Bonzo, I think." she said as the elevator squealed to a halt.

"Eh? Bed… Yes… that sounds nice…"

Jordan helped her inebriated friend down the hall and to her apartment; she fished her keys out of her pocket and led him inside.

"I'll take the couch-"

"Nope. That's about as far as I can get…" Nigel exclaimed, wincing at his own voice.

As if to demonstrate his point, he toppled over onto her couch and remained there, passed out.

"Goodnight Nigel." Jordan laughed quietly.

The slender female M.E. found a blanket and covered her friend up, kissing him lightly on the cheek and ruffling his hair.

"Mhmm?" Nigel mumbled sleepily.

She smiled down at him and turned to leave the room.

"Jordan?" Nigel called after her.

"Yes?"

"Thanks, love…"

_Come, Sleep! O sleep, the certain knot of peace,_

_The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,_

_The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,_

_The indifferent judge between high and low;_

_With shield of proof shield me from out the prease_

_Of those fierce darts Despair doth throw;_

_O make in me those civil wars cease;_

_I will good tribute pay, if thou do so._

_Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed._

_A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,_

_A rosy garland and a weary head:_

_And if these things, as being thine by right,_

_Move not thy heavy grace, though shalt in me,_

_Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see._

_Sir Philip Sidney_

_Sonnet 39_

&$&

Reviewest thou? If it pleases thee and, have thee a soft heart, review for me and thus I shall be besotted of thee.


	2. Chapter 2

Sonnets-Chapter Two

DGDB

Pg-13

Summary: Nigel's knackered, and in love. This isn't a good combination.

&&

_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? _

_Thou art more lovely and more temperate._

_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,_

_And summer's lease hath all to short a date._

_Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,_

_And often is his gold complexion dimmed._

_And every fair from fair sometimes declines,_

_By chance or natures changing course untrimmed._

_By thy eternal summer shall not fade,_

_Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest,_

_Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade_

_When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st._

_So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,_

_So long lives this, and this gives life to thee._

_William Shakespeare _

Sonnet 18 

&&

Nigel awoke early in the morning. The first thing he saw was a woman's lacy bra, crumple on the floor. The first thoughts in his mind were; _Oh shit. What'd I do?_ But upon further investigation, he became aware that this was Jordan's apartment and he was only sleeping on the couch. He attempted to sit up, but face planted directly back into the pillow as a wave of nausea and dizziness swept over him. He took an internal vote and his stomach decided that the rest of his body would remain on the sofa, asleep. His brain concurred and he rolled over, pulling the blanket around him.

He vaguely remembered falling over the couch and passing out the previous night. He remembered a cool hand in his hair and the gentle brush of lips against his cheek as Jordan tucked him in for the night. Sighing, he allowed his body to relax and fall back asleep.

About an hour later, Jordan rolled out of bed. She hopped into the shower and took her time about getting out. The bathroom was filled with steam by the time she stepped out of the shower. Jordan wrapped a towel around her curvy body and looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn't bad looking. The birthmark on her upper lip needed to be removed, but she had a nice face if she said so herself. Yes, beautiful and confident on the outside, but inside; she was a mess.

Jordan went about her morning routine and stepped out of the bathroom. She peered over at the sofa where Nigel was still sprawled out, sleeping. One bare foot stuck out over the arm of the couch and his right hand trailed on the ground. His hair was a mess and hung down in his face, giving him an endearing vagabond look.

She went over and tucked the blanket back in around him, he moaned in his sleep and twitched fitfully. Smiling to herself, Jordan went into the kitchen to make some coffee and tea.

&&

Nigel smelled tea. Strong tea with a little sugar. He turned his head and crack open his eyes. Jordan was sitting on the coffee table staring at him.

"Er… Hello." Nigel said. The way she was staring at him was unnerving.

"Good morning. I made tea." she offered him the mug.

Nigel attempted to sit up, but an earth-shattering hangover prevented it.

"Bugger." he moaned, clutching his head.

"Aww. Poor Nigel, Let me go get you an ice pack."

Poor inebriated Nigel couldn't stop himself from watching her perfect bottom as she went into the kitchen. After all, he was in a perfect position to be looking at it.

"Damn!" he muttered appreciatively to himself.

"You OK Nige?" she called from the kitchen.

"Yes! I'm fine!"

Jordan returned with an icepack in her hand, she placed it lightly on the back of his neck. Nigel sighed in ecstasy as the ice chased the pain away and replaced it with numbness. Twenty minutes later, Nigel managed to flip over onto his back. He and Jordan stared at each other for what seemed an eternity before she spoke.

"What happened last night?" she asked quietly. "I've never known you to go out and get bombed without telling me first. It's not like you."

Nigel huffed aggravatedly.

"I've never known you to drink anyplace else but the Pogue, either. Where'd you go?"

"Some tavern a couple blocks from work. Why?"

"No reason. Now you care to tell me why?"

Nigel looked confused.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you get drunk?"

The lanky Brit felt his face flushing.

"None of your business." he mumbled.

Jordan grinned knowingly.

"Is it a girl!"

"No!" he lied.

"Is it a boy!"

"NO!"

"Is it a goat?"

Nigel glared at her a moment.

"Yes Jordan. I've met _the goat_ of my dreams. Now where's my coat so I can go home?" he growled sarcastically.

"Uh uh. You're staying here. You're not fit to drive." she said.

"Then can you drive me home or call me a cab or something?"

"Nigel? What's wrong? You're never this-"

"I know! I know. I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed." he sighed and ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "Bugger all, Jordan… I… I can't talk about this."

Jordan gazed at him worriedly. Nigel heaved himself to his feet and staggered toward the bathroom to wash his face. Jordan heard the water splashing into the sink, and, moments later, Nigel turned it off and stepped out of the bathroom. He looked haggard and sick. It took all her willpower not to force him back onto the couch where she could keep an eye on him and take care of him.

"I'll just walk home, Jordan. It's only a few blocks." he said. Jordan glared at him disapprovingly. "Thank you. For taking care of me, I mean."

Her dark haired head nodded once and her eyes followed him as he walked to the door and let himself out. Once outside, he pressed his back against the wall and gathered what reserve he had to make the trek home.

&&

What do you think? I know these are short chappys, but I'm trying to get in all the sonnets. Much gnashing of teeth and angst in the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Sonnets-Chapter Three

DGDB

R-for language

Summary: Nigel angstily makes his way home. He's in love but refuses to admit it even to himself. Whatever shall we do with poor angsty Nige?

A/N: All right, to the dismay of many of you out there, I am putting one of my own 'Sonnets' into this story. The first is in this chapter. So if you don't like it I really couldn't give a f. This just proves what a soppy romantic git I wish I was…. Argh.

&&

_How do I miss thee?_

_I miss thee like the wind does miss the tree,_

_How do I love thee?_

_I love thee like a caged bird loved being free,_

_What would I do for thee?_

_I would lie for thee, kill for thee, if you asked me I'd die for thee,_

_Living without you is not life at all,_

_It is as if I am a corpse,_

_Spread out on my pall._

_If I cannot be with thee then I shall indeed die,_

_Though lovers and family at my side may cry._

_Life is not living if one cannot share it,_

_And if I cannot have you than I shall not bear it._

_An end of a beginning and a beginning of an end,_

_If I cannot even call you my friend._

_David G.D. Berquist_

_Sonnet 2_

Nigel slumped his way home, trying desperately not to pass out or vomit in the streets. He passed an old, drunk wino, who was pissing on the wall. The stench of the man, who smelt as if he hadn't showered in many millennia, sorely tested Nigel's gag reflex. He covered his nose with his t-shirt and stalked down the filthy sidewalks of downtown Boston. He walked by a bag lady, who was pushing an old wire buggy with a bum wheel. She was muttering incomprehensibly and her cart was filled with everything ranging from trash and old hamburgers, to magazines and moth-eaten clothes.

"Filthy! Rotten! Dirty beasts! You won't get me!" she suddenly proclaimed loudly and triumphantly.

Nigel skirted her and somehow made his way home to his lonely flat with the goldfish and the cupboard of conspiracy theory and hard rock magazines. He threw off his coat and shirt and stumbled into the bathroom, ready for a hot shower and bed. He felt like he'd been up for hours, when in fact he'd only been awake for about a half hour.

He dropped his jeans and boxers on the floor and stepped into the shower, leaning heavily against the wall as the hot water poured down his lean body. He noticed some bruising around his shoulder. _Hmm…_ he thought. _Wonder how that got there…_ He vaguely remembered getting in a fight with some bloke over at the pub about a football game that was on the telly.

After about an hour, Nigel finally reluctantly stepped out of the shower and toweled himself dry. He pulled on his pyjama bottoms and flopped face down on the couch. The rough texture of the sofa scratched his chest and made it itch slightly, but he didn't care. That was the least of his problems right now. At that moment he hated himself. He hated himself for loving someone and being totally unable to tell her or anyone else. Most of all he hated himself for showing her how weak he was. He, Nigel Townsend, loved Jordan Cavanaugh and had no chance in hell of ever telling her or having her love him in return.

Nigel turned on the TV and watched TV for a while, until his brain quieted down enough for him to fall asleep. Garret was gone, Buggles and Lils were hooking up, what's his nose was taking over… What exactly was left when Woody got out of the hospital and he and Jordan galloped off into the sunset and went back to Podunk wherever the hell it was?

The M.E. drifted off to sleep and dreams of being hunted by all those he knew at the morgue.

&&

Meanwhile, Jordan was pacing the living room in her house agitatedly. Nigel had left her in quite a state; she didn't know what was going on with him. He'd never acted this way before.

"Oh hell!" she exclaimed.

She grabbed her coat and car keys and stomped out to the car. Jordan turned the keys in the ignition, back her car up and was on her way to the hospital to check on Woody.

&&

Nigel sighed and rolled over to stare at the ceiling. There were cracks in the ceiling and he followed them around, they looked like veins. He looked down at his own veins, blue in his pale forearm. No one could ever love someone like me. No one.

He'd considered suicide, oh yes. But he was too cowardly. Too afraid that there was nothing beyond life, nothing better to look forward too. So he remained, living a half-life, alone. Life was pointless if there was no one to share it with. No one to laugh with, to cry with, to share your dreams and hopes and fears with.

Woody… Oh the lucky bastard. Stupid wanker didn't know how lucky he was! _He_ was the American dream. The pigskin playing, the prom king, the copper that everyone loved and adored. Especially Jordan.

And Jordan… Oh Jordan! She lit up his life like a Christmas tree at Yuletide. He did love her, almost obsessively. Had done so since the day they met, but the way she had looked at him that morning. Her eyes so… pitying. _That's all I can expect from a relationship with Jordan._ He thought. _Pity. She's only gone out drinking with me because she pities me. Like someone who sees a starving cat and feeds it._

_And me? Who am **I**?_ He asked himself moodily. Perhaps it was just the effects of the booze he had consumed, but he was feeling depressed. _I'm just… Nigel._ Big scary, scrawny, underfed, crypt keeper Nigel.

Shaking himself out of his miserable reverie, Nigel stumbled into his bedroom and dressed, not really caring what he was wearing. Before he knew it, he was barreling down the street toward the morgue, in search of answers and reprieve from a job that kept him far to close to Jordan.

&&

Jordan pulled into the hospital parking lot. She got out of her car and hurried into the building, the cold nipping at her nose. Gazing at a map, she followed the path to the ICU. At the nurses station she inquired where Woody had been moved. The homely black nurse directed her to a room and Jordan carefully opened the door, not wanting to wake up Woody if he was asleep.

Woody was there alright, and so was Devon. The couple's hands were clasped tightly together and Devon was looking at him lovingly.

"Uhm sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt-" Jordan mumbled, turning back to the door.

Devon stood up.

"Nonsense! Come, visit with us!" her arch-nemesis said perkily.

Jordan took a step forward. Woody cleared his throat from the bed.

"Jordan. I thought I made it clear-"

"I know. I just wanted to check up on you." Jordan interrupted. "Did the doctors say anything?" she directed her question towards Devon.

The DA smiled angelically.

"Yes they did, Woody will be able to walk in no time! They said the nerves haven't been damaged as badly as they thought."

"Oh. That's good." Jordan said awkwardly.

"Jordan, look-"

"I know Woody."

"That's exactly the problem!" Woody exploded.

Devon and Jordan both stared at him as if he had lobsters crawling out of his ears.

"You never let me do anything, Jordan! It's always about you! You constantly interrupt me and you're so over bearing!" Woody shouted angrily. "If you could just be a little less punk rock…"

Jordan stared at him for a long minute.

"Goodbye, Woody." she said quietly.

She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, aware that everything was finally over between her and Woody.

&$&

Nigel pulled into his usual parking spot and spotted Dr Macy's car a few spaces over. He frowned. _I thought he'd been fired?_ He thought to himself. Shaking his head, he went into the warm cheeriness of the Boston Crime Lab. Dr Macy was standing in the hall, discussing something with a CSI.

"Nigel," Dr Macy said with surprise. "I thought it was your day off?"

"Hi Dr Macy. I thought you were fired?"

"Fair enough. No, the mayor changed his mind about a few things. Saw some things my way. I've been reinstated. Now, why are you here?" Garret Macy asked curiously.

Nigel sighed and rubbed his neck tiredly.

"You mind if we talk in private?" the taller man asked.

Seeing that something was wrong, Garret motioned for Nigel to step into his office. He put a hand on Nigel's shoulder and steered him inside. All was not at all right with the world.

&&

Jordan wiped away tears from her eyes as she drove down the main road. There was only one person who really understood how she felt, and that was Nigel. She pulled into his apartment complex and made quick business of arriving at his door.

She knocked lightly on the door and pushed the doorbell. There was no sound of movement within, so she knocked again, this time a little harder. Still no answer. She stood there a full five minutes before she gave up and returned to her car. Maybe he was at the Morgue? And if he wasn't, work would help her get over Woody. She drove to work in silence, her mind ticking like the fine movements of a Swiss watch.

&&

Garret Macy stared at the younger man in exasperation. Nigel stared back, his expression hard to read.

"And you think because of that I'm going to accept your resignation? Really Nige. That's ridiculous."

"But Dr Macy-"

"I won't have it! You and Jordan are my best M.E.'s and I won't let you quit just because you can't face your feelings for her. Now, either tell her now and stop lollygagging over it, or spend the rest of your life getting an ulcer like I have. Do I make myself clear Dr Townsend?" Garret growled.

Nigel stared at his feet.

"Yes sir."

"Now are you up to doing some work? I have an autopsy that needs doing and Bug is up to his elbows in a case."

"Yes sir. Right away sir."

He stood up to leave the room but Garret stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

"It'll be alright Nigel. I promise. She'd never willingly hurt you. Just tell her, if she says no, then she says no. But if she says yes…" he trailed off knowingly.

Nigel graced his superior with a small smile before leaving the room to go into autopsy. Garret watched his top M.E. leave, his shoulders were slumped and his whole body screamed defeat before the actual battle had been fought. There was nothing he could do to help his associate and friend and it was killing him.

"And yet, by Heaven, I think my love as rare. As any she belied with false compare…" Garret murmured quietly.

Today should prove to be an interesting day indeed!

&&

Please please please review! I hope you are enjoying this melodrama!


	4. Chapter 4

Sonnets-Chapter Four

DGDB

PG-13

Summary: Things are coming to a head at the Morgue. Jordan and Woody are finished, Nigel's got a hell of a hangover and his feelings for Jordan aren't helping. Can Jordan find it in herself to let Nigel in after the worst happens?

A/N: Meh…

&&

_When to the sessions of sweet silent thought_

_I summon up remembrance of things past,_

_I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,_

_And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste._

_Then I can drown an eye, unused to flow,_

_For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,_

_And weeps afresh love's long since cancelled wore,_

_And moan the expense of many a vanished sight._

_Then I can grieve at grievances foregone,_

_And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er_

_The sad account of forebemoanéd moan,_

_Which I new-pay as if not paid before._

_But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,_

_All losses are restored and sorrows end._

_Shakespeare _

_Sonnet 30_

&&

Jordan pulled into an empty parking spot beside Nigel's car. She recognized it as his, not only by the numerous bumper stickers proclaiming Great Britain to be the best place on earth, but because she had been driven home many times by Nigel. After locking her own car, she patted Nigel's beat up old sedan affectionately before slouching inside.

She shook off her parka and hurried into the elevator to get to her floor. The building was pretty much empty, which was unusual for the middle of the day, but it didn't bother her too much. She spotted Lily in a counseling room and waved to her. Lily smiled back, but continued talking to the elderly couple that were seated across the table from her.

"Garret? Hey, where is everybody?" Jordan asked, poking her head into Garret's office.

The bald man looked up, his reading glasses perched on his nose. Dr Macy raised an eyebrow.

"Jordan. This _is_ a surprise. I thought you were taking the day off?" Garret said, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair.

"Uhm, is Nigel here? I need to talk to him. He left my place in a kind of a huff and-"

"You want to make sure everything's alright. As far as I know he's still here. He should be finishing up and autopsy, so he's either in exam three or the locker room."

"Thanks Garret."

"Sure."

Jordan tapped the doorframe once and strode down the hall. She looked into exam room three, but it was deserted, save for the body lying on the table.

"Must be in the locker room." she concluded.

She rounded the corner and walked right into the men' locker room without so much as batting an eye. She could see Nigel's lanky form in the shower. Jordan picked up Nigel's towel and decided to hold it hostage until she had gotten a few things off her chest. Meanwhile, she could enjoy watching Nigel shower and sweat. She cleared her throat.

"What in the-" Nigel exclaimed, whirling around to see Jordan standing there and waving his towel at him tauntingly.

"We need to talk." she said firmly.

Nigel grimaced at her.

"Now?"

"Now."

"Can you hand me my towel?" he asked warily.

"Nope. You're gonna stand there behind that wall and I'm gonna talk. Ok?" she said smoothly.

The tall Brit glowered at her.

"I haven't got much choice in the matter, have I?" he retorted.

Jordan shrugged and threw the towel around her shoulders like a scarf.

"Just listen." she pleaded.

Nigel sighed, ran and hand through his wet hair, and leaned on the tiled wall separating the showers.

"Listening."

Jordan took a deep breath.

"I went to the hospital to see Woody."

Nigel rolled his eyes.

"Lemme guess, Devon was there? And you want to 'talk about it'." Nigel said bitterly.

"Yeah. I do."

"So talk." Nigel said irritatedly.

"We're over. Woody and me, I mean." she paused, gauging Nigel's reaction. "I think there's… something you and I need to talk about."

Nigel remained silent, he was staring at her feet, refusing to look her in the eye.

"Nigel… You know, we've worked together for years, it would be ridiculously impossible for us to work together so long without either of us… feeling something for the other-"

"Stop. Stop right there, Jordan Cavanaugh. This is neither the time nor the place for us to talk about this. Besides which, what makes you think I-"

"Oh bite me Townsend. You're so obvious!"

"I am not!"

"You are!"

"I'm not talking about this in the shower, now give me my towel!"

"No! Not until we deal with this."

"There's nothing to deal with! I'm in love with you, you're in love with Woody. Woody's in love with himself. It's all good. Now, kindly give me that towel so I can go and strangle myself." he said all of this very fast, as if he were hoping to get rid of his thoughts and in doing so be cured of his feelings.

Jordan stood there, unspeaking for a moment while Nigel stewed in his own juices. She didn't know how to respond to what he'd said. _Maybe_, she thought, _if I just stand here, everything will work out fine._

Nigel heaved a great sigh of annoyance and did something he had never done before, he stalked out of the shower completely nude, grabbed his towel from around Jordan's neck, and wrapped the towel around his waist. Jordan stood there for a moment, contemplating what she had just seen. Nigel seemed to prove the old adage about 'men who have big feet' right. She was still standing facing the showers and by the time she turned to Nigel, he had already gotten halfway dressed.

"Listen, love. I've just told you how I feel, now I already know what your view on the matter is, so I'll just be moseying on down to the airport and hopping the next plane to merry ol' England. 'Cause I don't think I could handle life here with you now. Not now that you know."

Speechless in the face of such obvious animosity, Jordan watched Nigel march out of the steam filled locker room, and back into the hallway. After a moment, she shook herself out of her confused reverie and raced after him.

"Nigel!" she cried, skidding to a halt in the hallway.

Nigel stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around.

"Nigel Townsend, you listen you me, you stubborn pommey bastard. What in the hell makes you think I wouldn't want you! You're handsome, you're talented, you're a hell of a Medical Examiner. Why don't you have any confidence in yourself? In me? Why won't you believe that I could love you back?" she exclaimed, her whole body shaking with barely restrained emotion.

Nigel's form admitted defeat. He wanted nothing more than to turn around, take Jordan in his arms and promise her that he would love her forever, but the lurking suspicion that she still loved Woody tainted his dream. He turned slowly on the spot, his large dark eyes conveying just how enamoured and confused he was.

Jordan took a step toward him, but was momentarily distracted by a ruckus in the area in front of the receptionist's desk. Someone screamed, high and afraid and the word chilled Jordan to the bone.

"BOMB!"

&$&

How's that for a cliffhanger?


	5. Chapter 5

Sonnets-Chapter Five

PG-13

Summary: The worst has happened.

A/N: Pretty Nigel centric this time around. This sonnet is not a sonnet per se, but it is in sonnet form. (My Brit lit book only has so many decent sonnets in it)

&&

_If I should die, think only this of me;_

_ That there's some corner of a foreign field_

_That is forever England. There shall be_

_ In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;_

_A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,_

_ Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,_

_A body of England's breathing English air,_

_ Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home._

_And think, this heart, all evil shed away,_

_ A pulse in the eternal mind, no less_

_ Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;_

_Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;_

_ And laughter, learnt, of friends; and gentleness,_

_ In hearts at peace, under and English heaven._

_Rupert Brooke_

_The Soldier_

The explosion there following was deafening. Nigel instinctively threw his body over Jordan to protect her. Jordan let out a muffled yelp as the tall Brit tackled her to the ground and held her there, out of danger.

Everything seemed to happen at once, the bomb went off, shattering windows and sending glass flying everywhere. Then, as suddenly as it had happened, it was over. Nigel cautiously unfolded his body from over Jordan's. What felt like an entire window's worth of glass fell off of Nigel's back and clattered onto the floor. He helped Jordan up and brushed her off.

"What happened?" Jordan murmured.

Nigel, seeing that Jordan was all right physically, called out to the surrounding area to see who had survived the blast.

"Is anyone hurt!" he called.

Answering groans came back.

"Dr Macy!" Nigel said suddenly.

He raced into Dr Macy's office, the office closest to ground zero. The window's and doors were shattered and Dr Macy was nowhere in sight.

"Garret?" Jordan called.

A low groan came from behind the desk. Nigel knelt behind the desk and pulled his boss out from under the debris of his wrecked desk.

"What the hell happened?" Garret asked hazily, looking at his hand; which was bloodied from touching his face.

"Bomb, I think. Garret, that doesn't look good." Jordan said worriedly, motioning to a rapidly spreading bloodstain on her boss's shirt.

Nigel boldly moved the shirt away to reveal a decent sized piece of glass embedded in Garret's side.

"Fuck." Garret swore.

"Do you want me to take it out?" Nigel asked uncertainly.

Dr Macy gave him an irritated glance and yanked the bloodstained glass out himself. He tossed it away and winced as he stood up.

"Damnit that hurts." he swore furiously.

Jordan raised an eyebrow, but slipped an arm around her friend to help him out of the ruined office.

"Sit him down over there." Jordan said, motioning with her head to a seat in the visitor's room that hadn't taken too much damage.

They did so and once they had, Nigel fished in his pocket for his cell phone.

"Dr Macy, can you call for backup? I think we've got some injured." he suggested, handing Garret the phone.

Garret nodded and Nigel went off to help back near ground zero. Jordan stood watching him go.

"He hasn't said anything yet, has he?" Garret said suddenly.

"Huh? What? No… I told him…"

"And he blew you off?"

"Not as such. The bomb kinda ruined the moment." she said wryly.

&&

Nigel sighed and stretched his back out. It twinged painfully. All the injured had been taken care of. There was luckily only one death, and that was of the bomber, so no loss there.

He heard footsteps behind him and Jordan's voice spoke up.

"Are you aware your back's bleeding?" she asked glibly.

Nigel craned his neck to see.

"Am I? Oh well…" he replied nonchalantly.

Jordan rolled her eyes, took his hand, and led him into one of the free autopsy rooms.

"Sit down and take your shirt off." she ordered.

"But-"

"Sit."

Nigel sighed and did as he was ordered. He tossed his ruined t-shirt in the trash bin and sat down backwards on a chair with his head on his crossed arms. He could hear Jordan clattering about in the cabinets.

"Aha!" she exclaimed.

"Why do I have the feeling this is gonna hurt?" Nigel grumbled.

"Hush up." she teased.

She pulled a rolling chair up behind Nigel and went to work, pulling tiny shards of glass out of his back.

"So," she started.

"So." he said.

"I want to go out with you." she said offhandedly.

Nigel stiffened as she pulled particularly large shard out of his back.

"Oh aye?" he replied casually.

"Yeah. How's tonight sound?" she asked.

"Yeah. Sounds good." he said, trying desperately not to betray his nervousness. "You can give me a sponge-bath."

She laughed.

"Oh, that's not all I could do." she purred in his ear.

Ten minutes later she had finished removing all the shards of glass and was tossing the glass and the tweezers into the hazardous trash bin. Once finished with that, she leaned over her confused coworker and whispered seductively in his ear.

"The things I'm going to do to you, my sweet limey boy." she said as she stroked the back of his neck.

Nigel let out a little whimper and his right foot began thumping rhythmically against the cabinet. Jordan snickered evilly.

"If that's all it takes to have you putty in my hands, what're you going to do when I take you home tonight?" she murmured, still petting Nigel.

"Bugger!" Nigel squeaked.

"Exactly." she smiled.

&$&

_One day I wrote her name upon the strand,_

_But came the waves and washéd it away;_

_Again I wrote it with a second hand,_

_But came the waves, and made my pains his prey._

_"Vain man," said she, "that dost in vain assay_

_A mortal thing so to immortalize!_

_For I myself shall like to this decay,_

_And eke my name be wipéd out likewise."_

_"No so," quod I, "let baser things devise_

_To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:_

_My verse your virtues rare shall eternize,_

_And in the heavens write your glorious name;_

_Where, whenas death shall all the world subdue,_

_Our love shall live, and later life renew."_

Edmund Spenser 

_Sonnet 75_

&$&

Please review! I would appreciate it. I hope that even if you didn't like the fic, you learned some new poems. Literature is brilliant, especially Brit Lit. And porn. Porn is good, yeah?


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